


When the Trojans Go to War

by the_oxfordcomma



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A Jeremy Original Smile, Exy, Foam sword fights, Fun, Gen, Incredibly good sportsmanship, It's just a good time!, No trauma for once!, Peanut M&Ms, Really though!, Shenanigans, Sports Rivalry, The Iliad, nerds, pop culture references, they're all nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_oxfordcomma/pseuds/the_oxfordcomma
Summary: “Trojans,” Jeremy intoned. “I bring you grave news.”All around Jean, his teammates were grinning and elbowing each other, leaning forward to catch Jeremy’s words.“I have just received word from a reliable herald” — Jeremy held up his phone, amidst scattered laughter — “that the Greeks have left Mycenae.”The Trojans let out a murmur of mock-horror. One junior dealer clutched a bemused sophomore’s arm. The girl behind Jean’s chair pretended to faint. Something clicked in Jean’s memory, and the weird histrionics of his teammates finally fell into context. They were playing Atreus University tonight.The Trojans muster their forces to play their long-time rivals, the Myrmidons. Hilarious shenanigans and uninhibited fun ensue.





	1. The Council Has Spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is bullied into having fun.

Jeremy Knox walked in late to team lunch on Friday, wearing a helmet. Not an exy helmet, either, a full-on Ancient Greek one, nose piece almost interrupting his ear-to-ear grin. The plume on the top turned the gold helmet Trojan colors. Jean stared in open disbelief as the Trojans around him began to whoop and bang on the tables. He looked at Alvarez, hoping for some help, but she had reached over the table to steal a banana from Dylan’s hand, which she brandished over her head like a weapon.

Jeremy climbed on top of a dining hall chair, bowed his helmeted head, and held out his hands for quiet. Alvarez slid back into her seat obediently.

“Trojans,” Jeremy intoned. “I bring you grave news.”

All around Jean, his teammates were grinning and elbowing each other, leaning forward to catch Jeremy’s words.

“I have just received word from a reliable herald” — Jeremy held up his phone, amidst scattered laughter — “that the Greeks have left Mycenae.”

The Trojans let out a murmur of mock-horror. One junior dealer clutched a bemused sophomore’s arm. The girl behind Jean’s chair pretended to faint. Something clicked in Jean’s memory, and the weird histrionics of his teammates finally fell into context. They were playing Atreus University tonight.

“Our enemy now sails swiftly down I-5 to try their swords against our city walls.” Jeremy raised his arms to express the magnitude of the walls. He was trying to keep his face serious, but he was doing terribly. Jean’s head ached with the powerful urge to roll his eyes. “We must prepare to defend Troy against these invaders!”

“We shall defeat them!” Dylan shouted. Several other Trojans cheered in agreement.

The Atreus University Myrmidons were the closest thing the Trojans could get to a good, old-fashioned school rivalry. The Myrmidons were named for the elite fighting unit led by the warrior hero Achilles in the Trojan War. They were a good team, but being in the same region as the Trojans meant they rarely advanced past the first round of death matches. But what the Myrmidons lacked in exy prowess, they more than made up for in quirky team traditions. The ones they shared with the Trojans were the most outrageous of them all. Any games featuring the two teams usually involved helmets like the one Jeremy had perched on his head, along with foam sword fights, weird theatrical performances during half time, and screamed recitations of the Homeric epic that had started all the madness in the first place. The Ravens had always treated this annual spectacle with the utmost disdain, of course — why waste time and energy making a fool of yourself when there was exy to be played? — although Jean had always thought Kevin’s disdain was somewhat adulterated by his admiration for the historical re-enactment. Kevin had been caught watching the game a few years before, but brushed off any accusations of sympathy by insisting he was only doing so to evaluate the Trojans’ footwork. Jean hadn’t believed him, especially when he had muttered under his breath that the Trojan captain had been wearing the wrong kind of helmet for the time period. Jean wondered if Jeremy’s current helmet was era-appropriate. He eyed the red plume suspiciously as Jeremy continued his speech.

“First,” Jeremy said, “I turn it over to our esteemed Aeneas. Take it away.”

Laila scrambled to a standing position on her chair and looked out at the occupied tables. “As our ancient tradition dictates, we must choose an Alexander-slash-Paris for whom we will defend Troy —“

“Excellent grammar!”

“Shut up, Greg!”

“…For whom we will defend Troy,” Laila said, louder, “from our enemies. Are there any nominations?”

Beside her, Alvarez thrust her hand up into the air like a third grader who knows the correct spelling of “acknowledge”. A few of the others pointed towards her until Laila noticed and high-fived her waving palm.

Alvarez stood up as well, waving off the applause with a modest expression. She dropped her voice to the pitch of a storyteller and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Approximately several long years ago, there was a lost son of Troy, living in the wretched darkness of the dreaded East Coast.” There were a few snickers and an offended outburst from a Bostonian striker. “Many believed him dead,” Alvarez continued, “but some brave and surprisingly sassy shepherds discovered him and shepherded his cute little ass right out of there, and he lived to fight another day.”

She took a breath to preserve the suspense and emotion of the tale. Jean had the uncomfortable suspicion that he knew the end of this story. “And now, at long last, this prince of Troy has come home to his rightful place. He doesn’t look nearly enough like Orlando Bloom, but he is kind of a dick, and so is Paris. I nominate Jean Moreau.”

There was some more cheering and banging of tables as Jean gave up his attempt to not roll his eyes.

“All in favor,” Laila shouted.

A good twenty hands shot up, and were quickly joined by others. Jean sighed internally. He didn’t even know why he was surprised.

“The council has spoken!” Laila declared. She sat back down and threw an arm around Jean’s shoulders.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jean hissed at her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied easily. “I’ll explain it all to you later.”

Jeremy was avoiding contractions again. “Everyone must report to battle stations two hours before first serve, where our veterans will instruct you on the strategies of the enemy. After the battle, we will collect snacks and proper libations for the celebration in the usual spot, where we will thank the gods for allowing us to play some damned good exy!”

His “Go Trojans!” was lost in the roar of the rest of the team. As Jean aimed a death glare at Alvarez’s smug grin, the Trojans went back to inhaling their lunches. Jeremy sat down in the empty seat opposite Jean and placed his helmet gingerly on the table so he could eat.

“Please tell me I don’t have to make one of those idiotic speeches,” Jean said.

Jeremy’s smile never faltered. He wasn’t surprised at Jean’s reaction. “They’re not idiotic, they’re tradition. And no, you don’t. Your job’s easy.”

“Actually, that depends on how they’re interpreting this year,” Laila pointed out.

“I can text Elena and ask,” Jeremy offered.

“ _Pourquoi cela m'arrive-t-il_?”

“Lighten up, Jean.” Alvarez told him. “It’s fun.”

“You still haven’t told me what you expect me to do.”

“It’s simple,” she said with a wink. “All you’ve got to do is steal a princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this instead of studying for my Greek mythology final. My priorities are clearly in order.
> 
> There's definitely at least one Trojan I owe to exyfexyfoxes. And Nora, of course.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	2. T-minus Thirty Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Myrmidons.

About a half-hour from L.A., Elena’s phone vibrated twice in quick succession in the pocket of her sweatpants. The text was from Jeremy, and it just said _Jean Moreau._

“No way,” she breathed, impressed. She typed back _for real??_

 

_he’s not thrilled but he’ll do it_

_politely_

_and in french_

 

The message was followed by four emojis.

Elena pulled out an earbud and turned around in her seat to lean over the top. “Jill!”

The senior dealer didn’t look up from her phone. Elena knew she was hate-watching the new Troy series on Netflix. Kate looked up from hers though. “What’s up, El?”

“Guess who’s being Paris this year.”

Jill finally paused the video. “Being Neoptolemus,” she said. “I’m not supposed to care. Did you know he’s not even in this fucking series?”

Elena sucked in an exasperated breath. “I’m telling you, Neoptolemus is a fucking psycho. Also, you’re Agamemnon. And yes, you do care.” She stuck her phone in Jill’s face. Kate leaned over to have a look.

Jill’s eyes went wide. “Jean Moreau? Like, _the_ Jean Moreau?”

“That’s what he says.”

“In _French_?”

Elena shrugged, grinning. “Apparently so.”

“Amazing.” Kate said.

“Have you told Claire?” Jill wanted to know.

Elena typed a response emoji to Jeremy. “I feel like I shouldn’t. I feel like the surprise is better.” Claire had been predictably and adorably excited to have landed the coveted role of the team’s Helen of Troy as a freshman. Elena thought that if Jean showed up speaking French, Claire might literally swoon. It would certainly lend an element of authenticity to the proceedings.

“Is he going to be a good Paris, you think?” Kate asked. “I always felt like Ravens were kind of asexual. Like they reproduced by dividing into Riko clones.”

Elena laughed. “That’s so offensive, and yet so plausible.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Malik sat up in his seat and slid his headphones off his head.

“Nothing,” Jill told him. “Generals only.”

“You’re not a general,” Malik argued. “You’re just the psycho kid of a general.”

Elena pointed a finger at her vice-captain and raised her eyebrows at Jill. “See? Psycho.”

“I’m Agamemnon, asshole. I am a general.”

Malik ignored Jill’s frustration. “Spill your secrets, cap. Why are we taking about Riko clones? Did Moreau decide to go back east or something?”

“God, I hope not,” Jill said, a frown line working its way between her eyebrows. Jean had hidden himself away from the press pretty effectively last year after his apparently death-defying escape from Evermore, but several pictures of what Riko Moriyama had done to his face had made their way through the exy internet sphere. The images had been chilling, and the rumors that went along with them as the Ravens had cracked under the pressure of investigation and Riko’s death were even worse. While Elena herself had never been approached by Edgar Allen with any kind of offer, Kate had, before she’d ultimately chosen AU. Elena took a moment to thank whoever was responsible that her steady, blonde backliner had never seen the inside of the Nest. She couldn’t let herself imagine what would have happened to Kate’s fierce spark if Riko had gotten his hands on it. She also couldn’t imagine any universe where Jean would voluntarily go back to West Virginia. Besides, she had it on good authority that he had yet to steal Helen of Troy.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be in L.A. when we get there.” Elena had felt both excitement and dread at the news that the former Raven had reappeared on the Trojans’ roster. The opportunity to play against such a legendary player was too good for any striker to pass up. That didn’t mean she was overly confident in her own ability to get around him to the Trojan goal.

“Can you wake the lesser Calderon, please?” she asked Malik. “I need to talk to him about the horse.”

Malik elbowed Elena’s brother, who stopped snoring. Daniel cracked an eye open and looked at Malik skeptically.

“Are we there yet?”

“Nah, man.” Malik pointed at Elena, who waved.

“How are we doing on our horse?”

The Trojan horse was a crucial ceremonial aspect of the Myrmidons-Trojans game. Regardless of whether the game was held at USC or AU, and regardless of the actual score, it fell to the Myrmidons to sneak their way into the afterparty. Daniel had been appointed their Odysseus this year, and was in charge of the team’s strategy once they left the court.

He was wide awake now. Elena settled herself sideways on the bus seat with her feet in the aisle and listened to him outline the scheme, nodding in approval. Win or lose tonight, the Ravens were far away, and this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Atreus University's acronym is an unintentional pun.


	3. Stealing Helen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean goes on a mission, and the Trojans welcome a guest.

At least he didn’t have to wear a helmet. Jean kept repeating this fact to himself as he made his way along the hallway to the guest lounge, Dylan by his side. Laila had explained that all he had to do was go in and invite “Helen” to sit on the home bench for the game, and avoid being stopped by the Myrmidons’ cheerleaders, the Greek Chorus. He had jokingly mentioned to Jeremy that he could do the inviting in French, and Jeremy had practically bounced out of his seat with excitement. If Jean was being honest with himself, Jeremy’s goofy smile had cinched it for him. It had been in place all day, and there was no way it was going to falter on his account.

The door to the room was slightly open, and Jean could hear the Greek Chorus chattering and laughing inside. He turned and looked at Dylan, who gave him a snappy salute and slipped past. Jean stuffed himself into a nearby closet and closed the door just enough to see a sliver of hallway through it. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy playing this game, though he still didn’t quite understand the point. The concept of doing something just for the hell of it felt odd under his skin. He couldn’t decide if it was a good feeling or not, but he’d already committed.

He could hear Dylan talking to the captain of the cheerleaders and telling her that it was time for them to go into the locker room with the team.

“Let’s go, guys!” the captain called to the room. “Claire, you get the lights.”

How the Myrmidons got their entire team and cheer squad to play along every year, Jean had no idea. Then again, Jeremy had managed it with theirs. But he was Jeremy.

When the stream of red and gray and the whiff of hairspray had vanished down the hall, Jean slid through the doorway of the locker room.

Claire was sitting somewhat awkwardly on the couch, and she looked up when Jean opened the door. There was a small silver tiara perched on her dark hair. Jean was grateful that she didn’t stare at him for long.

“I’m Jean.”

“Yeah, I know,” Claire chirped. She hopped out of her seat, curls bouncing.

Jean managed to smile back at her. “I promised Jeremy I’d do this in French,” he said. “So, _voulez-vous venir avec moi_?” He held out a hand, and Claire blushed to the tips of her ears. She let out a flattered giggle as she took it.

“Sure!”

“Let’s go, then.”

Jean led her around the stadium, taking the roundabout route to the home entrance. He felt somewhat awkward holding her hand, but it was cool and she didn’t hold on too tight, and in any case, they were almost there.

“So how do you like being a Trojan?” Claire asked.

“Infinitely better than the alternative,” Jean said without thinking. He realized belatedly that he probably should have worded that better. “They’re loud and kind of ridiculous, but they’re really welcoming.”

Claire didn’t acknowledge his slip if she’d noticed it. “That’s great!”

They had reached the Trojans’ entrance, and they could hear the hum of the crowd through the door. Jean let go of Claire’s hand to open it, and the wave of sound broke over them.

“Ready?” Claire asked.

“I guess. I’ve never been Alexander before.”

“I’ve never been Helen before. I guess we’ll do our best.”

The crowd was pretty evenly split between Trojan and Myrmidon fans. The schools weren’t too far apart, and droves of AU students had made the trek to fill up the stands. When they caught sight of Jean and Claire coming through the home entrance, the hum quickly rose to a roar. Jean could feel the thousands of pairs of eyes scrutinizing him and the Myrmidon cheerleader as they made their way to the inner court. The Myrmidons were still in their own locker room, leaving only the Trojans, who were stretching and running drills to kill time. They turned at the change in tone from the crowd, and some of them began to make come-at-me gestures at the Myrmidons’ fans.

Jeremy stepped forward, wearing his ancient helmet. He made an exaggerated bow to Claire, who managed a tiny curtsy given the length of her skirt.

“Welcome to Troy!” Jeremy crowed. He gestured grandly to the home bench with a broad smile. “Make yourself comfortable. We brought you peanut M&Ms!”

Claire laughed and thanked him. She settled herself on the bench and held up the bag of M&M’s for inspection.

“Nice job, Alexander!” Alvarez said from Jean’s elbow. “She looks thoroughly un-scarred by the experience.”

Jean punched her in the arm. “What now?” he asked Jeremy.

“Now,” Jeremy replied. “We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Because of your support, Jean Moreau actually had to do something fun! The Trojans are very grateful.


	4. Myrmidons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game tradition in the away locker room.

In the away locker room, Elena looked over her team. She was dimly aware of Coach Paspalas going over their strategy for the game and the starting lineup. She had helped formulate the plan herself, and knew it backwards and forwards. She absently picked at the strings of her racquet and soaked in the moment, revelling in the way that her heartbeat was speeding up.

She knew they were going to lose this game. The Trojans were undefeated, and the only reason the Foxes had stopped them from getting to the final last year had been their captain’s unprecedented decision to sacrifice a crucial win in favor of a challenge. Since that game, the Trojans had only improved. They could run rings around most teams in Class I, and they were favored for the title this year if the Foxes didn’t manage another miracle. Either way, while they might give them an enjoyable fight, the Myrmidons would not be the obstacle that halted their progress.

But there was no time for thinking about that. She had brought her team here to play exy, but she had also brought them here to throw a wild party and entertain a stadium full of fans with crazy antics inspired by a three-thousand-year-old poem. Each player the Myrmidons signed knew what they were agreeing to when they put pen to contract. AU’s sports program had always given a nod to their ancient namesake, but the exy team was the one who took the enthusiasm and attached a firework to the end. Even on normal games, Elena proudly stepped into the role of Achilles, but this was the Trojans.

The entire locker room was jittery with excitement. The freshmen were bright-eyed, drinking in everything that told them this wasn’t a normal game. The more veteran players watched with the satisfaction of knowing that they were about to give their all on a familiar battlefield. The team was buzzing and louder than usual, but Coach Paspalas didn’t raise his voice above its usual volume. He never did, of course. People who watched Myrmidons play struggled to comprehend the players’ wild abandon next to the calm, understated old man who coached them, but Elena knew the truth. If the AU exy players ever had to go to actual war, they would do so for this man. His quiet was only encouragement for them to go harder, be better, and yell louder. Elena couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

Coach Paspalas finished his game breakdown and lowered his clipboard. “Elena?”

Elena’s helmet was sitting next to her on the bench. Not the exy one, which she had already stowed on the away bench, but the ancient-looking one which had been given to her by the previous captain. Apparently there had been some kind of comment abut the historical accuracy of helmets in years past. The Myrmidons had taken this seriously and purchased a new helmet two years ago. The team began to cheer as Elena placed the cool metal over her head. Malik lent her a hand up so she could stand on a bench.

She took a breath and surveyed her soldiers. They were grinning like fools.

“Myrmidons!” she shouted to the room.

“AH-OOH!” came the whooping response. Elena’s heart squeezed in time to it.

“My brothers of the sword!” Daniel reached up to bump fists with her, and several teammates laughed. “I’d rather fight beside you than any army of thousands.”

Right on cue, the thirty-two exy sticks beat ground, benches, lockers, and armor as one. You didn’t get to the Trojans game without knowing exactly how Brad Pitt’s speech went.

“Let no man forget how menacing we are. We are lions!”

More banging.

“Do you know what’s there,” Elena cried, as close to a roar as she could possibly make her voice, “waiting, beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It’s yours! Let’s go play some exy!”

The room dissolved into cheers and more banging as the Myrmidons jumped into the air. Elena hopped off the bench and led the way to the locker room door. It was time to hit the court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these kids having a healthy relationship with this sport! So refreshing! Special thanks to my adolescent softball coach, Brad Pitt, and that singular episode of Troy: Fall of a City. Thanks again for reading!


	5. The Coin Toss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous duel, and the chapter in which refs are no fun.

Jeremy bounced on his heels and watched the away door through the gaps in his helmet. He didn’t have long to wait before Mairead Farrell barrelled through the entrance and made a beeline for the home bench. The Myrmidons’ half of the crowd screamed and beat their feet against the seats in response. It was starting.

Mairead’s sister, Jill, broke away from the mass of Myrmidon players to step into her path, blocking her view of the bench and — more significantly — Claire, who had gleefully begun to eat her peanut M&M’s. Jeremy had known that snack was a good call. Jill managed to manhandle Mairead back towards their team, but she looked back over her shoulder, pointing two fingers towards her own eyes and then an accusing one at Jeremy. Jeremy beamed at her in response, giving a little wave. It was all part of the theater, the spectacle. The uninhibited fun. Jeremy felt the sides of his grin twist into something more mischievous than usual.

Beside Coach Rhemann, one of the referees looked at another and sighed, then blew his whistle to signal it was time for the coin toss. There was a good chance that at least one of the six referees would remain unamused and unaffected by the celebratory spirit of the Trojans-Myrmidons game, and clearly it was this one. Jeremy wasn’t phased. He watched Elena’s progress as she sauntered across the court with the air of a conquerer, braids peeking out from underneath her helmet and short foam sword attached to her hip. Elena was a good striker, tiny and fast and without mercy. Jeremy wondered sometimes what a face-off between her and Neil Josten would look like, but today he was more interested in how she’d deal with Jean.

“The Great Achilles,” he addressed her as they stepped up to the referee. “We meet at last before the walls of Troy.”

The referee sighed again. Elena noticed and wasn’t pleased. She ignored him in favor of responding to Jeremy.

“Prepare to die with honor, Hector, breaker of horses.”

“You know,” Jeremy said, “I’ve kind of had a bad feeling about horses lately. Can’t explain it. It’s totally weird.”

“Huh.” Elena feigned confusion. “I really don’t know what that could be about. Tails,” she told the ref.

Elena won the coin toss.

“Guess the gods have judged in my favor,” she said, already reaching for her sword.

“Not dead yet,” Jeremy reminded her.

“You have thirty seconds for this nonsense,” the ref reminded both of them.

The stadium roared to life as Elena drew her foam weapon and struck in one singular motion. Jeremy parried and swung at her, but missed her head by a few inches as she ducked. Elena danced backwards, laughing.

“Come at me, Knox!”

Jeremy lunged, aiming for Elena’s left side, but she sidestepped, bringing her sword around to smack him in the ass. There was a low “ooh” from the crowd.

He pointed his sword at her in warning. “That was a low blow, Calderon.”

Elena didn’t give him a lot of time to complain. She only had a few more seconds to win the fight. Jeremy stepped further and further back as Elena pressed forward, striking high, then lower. The referee was fidgeting in Jeremy’s peripheral vision. No time left. Jeremy swiped his sword sloppily to the right, leaving his left side open, and Elena went in for the kill. She slid the foam sword under Jeremy’s shoulder, and he trapped it with his arm, dropping to his knees. Elena whipped the sword away from him and turned to the away bench, raising both arms in the air.

Jeremy flopped dramatically to the ground, but he turned his head so he could see Elena go to stand with her team. He could hear his own team loudly lamenting the “loss” of their captain, and knew Alvarez’s face was probably priceless. He wondered absently how Jean was reacting. As Jeremy watched, Malik Johnson separated from the group and stood by Elena. Curling his hands into fists, he tipped his head towards the ceiling.

“Sing, O ye Muses, of the wrath of Achilles!” he cried.

“Myrmidons!” That was Elena.

“AH-OOH!”


	6. Vs. Jean Moreau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, right. Exy.

They put Jean in after the first quarter. Elena watched him take his place at first fourth with Alvarez and Dylan, like he was born to stand there. Even missing the black uniform, he was threatening. But he wasn’t immediately Elena’s problem; the Trojans had the ball. Jeremy had already scored two out of the Trojans’ three goals so far, and the Myrmidons had yet to score at all. Elena knew they had three whole quarters to try and close that gap, but the zero on the scoreboard was making her antsy. She glanced over over at the other strikers on the half-court line, catching Michael’s eye around Jeremy’s twirling racquet and Jackie Shields’ long ponytail. She took a breath, re-centering herself, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet.

At the whistle, Alvarez tipped the ball into the air and slammed it down the court. Everyone snapped into motion, forming patterns and plays around each other while Jeremy snagged the ball on the rebound and headed towards the Myrmidons’ goal. Elena ran towards Jean.

God, he was unnecessarily tall.

Elena bounced from foot to foot in front of the Trojan backliner, taking a few steps to either side every few seconds. She watched as Jeremy flicked the ball to Jackie. Jean could probably see over her head just fine without moving, but all those long limbs would make him slower. She couldn’t out-reach him, so she would have to out-maneuver him. She eyed Dylan, gauging his position relative to the goal, and shifted to Jean’s side, putting herself between him and the court wall. It was a risky move, as Jean could block her against the Plexiglass, but it also meant she could be out of his direct line of sight without being off-sides.

Jackie was struggling to get around Jill, and Elena shot off towards the middle of the court, making Jean go with her. As soon as she reached the middle, it was back the other way. Feinting, dodging, always keeping an eye on the far end of the court. By the away goal, Jackie had passed back to Jeremy, who was shoving against Kate in an effort to push past. Elena didn’t stop moving. She could feel Jean’s annoyance at having to chase her back and forth, but it would be worth it if she played her cards right. He had to follow her, or risk not being in place if the ball came their way. Elena only hoped she could do it enough times that he’d eventually make a mistake.

Jeremy finally stopped trying to push back against Kate, and passed the ball to Jackie. Spinning to one side, she shot the ball towards the goal. Patrick blocked it with a clean swipe of his racquet, and Elena braced herself. But the ball stopped short as Jeremy leaped into the air, blocking the shot before it could hit the ceiling. His feet didn’t even hit the court before Kate barrelled into him. Jeremy’s exy armor made a dull crack against the floor, but the check was legal, and Kate now had the ball. Elena’s legs and lungs were burning from almost an entire half of running, plus the wild goose chase she’d been maintaining with Jean, but she saw her opening. In the split second it took for Kate to scoop the ball into her racquet and pass it to Adrian, Elena had gone zero to sixty, skirting Jean’s back to his other side. Adrian’s shot hit her racquet with a satisfying pop as Jean tried to recover from having expected Elena to be on his right. Moving more on instinct than thought, Elena turned and aimed for the corner of the Trojan goal. Jean’s racquet slammed into hers a hair too late, and the wall lit up red.

Elena walked slowly towards half-court and forced air into her lungs as her teammates clapped her on the back in congratulations. She caught Jean’s eye over Adrian’s shoulder, and felt a little better seeing that he looked winded, too.

“Coach P’s subbing you out,” Adrian said, pointing at the court door. CJ clacked sticks with her on the way and took his place beside a new Trojan striker. Jeremy was apparently being subbed out, too. Elena looked over at him, hoping Kate hadn’t done any serious damage, but Jeremy was bouncing off the court with his usual enthusiasm. He was fine.

“Did you have to tire yourself out like that, kid?” Coach Paspalas asked softly as she sat down heavily on the bench. “I mean, it was a beauty of a goal, but there you go running yourself into the ground again.”

Elena gulped down some water and nodded. She knew he was right. She’d definitely used that strategy before, with the same results.

“You’ve got a whole slew of strategies to get past backliners. Don’t lose confidence in yourself just because it’s Jean Moreau.”

“Can I go back in later?”

“We’ll see, Achilles.”

Elena didn’t feel too discouraged by this. Whether she got another chance against Jean or not, the Myrmidons were on the board.


	7. Halftime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trojans discover the joys of iMovie. Most of the Iliad jokes appear.

As soon as the buzzer sounded for halftime, Elena stalked onto the court. The players, both Trojan and Myrmidon, parted in front of her as she made her way to the center. Alvarez elbowed Laila to get her attention and tilted her head towards the Myrmidons’ captain just in time to catch Jill pushing her way through the door. The USC students who had just been given a degree of control over the AV system played Darth Vader’s theme on the stadium loudspeaker.

“What’s going on?” Max asked, coming up beside Laila. He was a freshman, and clearly hadn’t found time to read _The Iliad_ like he was supposed to.

“They’re having a catfight,” Alvarez replied. “Biggest non-godly bitch fit in Classical mythology.”

Jill and Elena had begun shouting at each other, pointing fingers in each others faces. From through the Plexiglass, their words were mostly lost, but from the looks of the players who had remained on the court, it was funny. Alvarez remembered that last year, the designated Agamemnon and Achilles had argued about which character in the fifth season of _Teen Wolf_ had the most cringe-worthy plot line. It had been a surprisingly long debate.

“I think they’re fighting about who should play Dionysus in a movie adaptation of the Olympian gods,” Claire piped up from the bench. She offered Max a peanut M&M. “Elena said something about it yesterday.”

“Better not let Jill see you’re playing nice with the enemy,” Alvarez warned. “She looks pretty mad.”

On the court, Elena choked down a laugh as Jill punctuated a statement by stamping her foot on the floor. Elena tossed a braid over her shoulder and puffed out her chest in an exaggerated display of bravado, then dropped her racquet on the floor in front of Jill with the finesse and effectiveness of dropping a mic. The audience response was wild, and only grew wilder as the lights began to dim and the two Myrmidons left the court.

“Yo, pass me an M&M?” Alvarez held out her hand as Claire dropped the chocolate into it. “I should have made popcorn for this part.”

“Aw, yes, time for the movie break!” Max crowed, sitting on the floor next to Alvarez and leaning back against the bench to get a better look at the screen.

The stadium screen had gone black, marred only by the words “Trojan War 2018” which were very obviously created by iMovie. Alvarez snorted. Jeremy clearly hadn’t asked a CS major for help like Laila had suggested. She supposed it was endearing, and very Jeremy. And she had to admit that a lot of the video had been put together that morning.

A foot shoved Alvarez as her own face appeared on the screen, along with the caption “Cassandra, Princess of Troy”.

“I’m telling you,” screen-Alvarez insisted to the camera. “My prophecies are totally real! In fact, I predict that Jeremy will cuss out a pigeon today!”

The screen cut to a group of Trojans laughing maniacally at the suggestion.

A Spongebob screencap reading “Three Hours Later” gave way to a low-quality snapchat video of the Trojan captain facing off against a campus bird. As the camera shook (Alvarez had been laughing when she’d filmed it), Jeremy began to shout at the pigeon, which looked distinctly unamused. Almost every word in his rant was masked by a bleep. It was the most curse words Alvarez had heard Jeremy string together at one time. She had kept the original video on her phone for blackmail purposes.

It had been a pain to get enough Trojans together at 11am on a Tuesday to film the subsequent shocked reaction. Most of the team had 10:10 classes on that day for some reason. Alvarez had ended up roping in a few uninvolved passing students.

The next shot involved Alvarez facepalming, then looking dramatically at the camera like the title character of _That’s So Raven_. Sitting in the stadium now, Alvarez wondered if anyone still remembered _That’s So Raven_. Judging by the audience reaction, they did.

“I predict…the Myrmidons are coming!”

The Myrmidons half of the stadium launched into cheering at that, and the scene cut again. The caption read “The Judgement of Paris”.

“How did you get Jean in this video?” Max asked. “We only picked him this morning.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Alvarez scoffed. “You think we don’t plan ahead? Watch the thing.” She held out her hand for another M&M.

The next thirty seconds involved three Trojans impersonating Olympian goddesses. Dylan had begged until he had been allowed to play Aphrodite. The blonde wig he wore was unforgivably ridiculous, but he’d remembered his lines and delivered them well.

After all the goddesses had finished, there was Jean, sitting at a dining hall table, passing an apple to someone off-screen. This had been a rather difficult shot to accomplish, because they couldn’t resist tipping him off that something nerdy or remotely fun was afoot. Alvarez had hidden her phone behind Laila’s shoulder as Jeremy asked Jean to pass him the apple on the table. Jean had scowled, since the apple was a foot away from both him and Jeremy, but he had handed it over anyway, giving the videographers the two-second clip they needed.

“Was this last week?” Alvarez looked to find the same scowl aimed at her from above.

“Yep,” she replied.

“You tricked me.”

“Damn right.”

Jean flicked the back of her head, but didn’t make any further comment.

Alvarez had seen the Myrmidons half of the video a few hours earlier when Jeremy had opened the file from Elena. The Myrmidons didn’t need to keep their antics secret from their backliners until it was too late to back out, so theirs was a little more put together. It was essentially battlefield recruitment videos of the two Calderon siblings, one as Odysseus and the other as Achilles. Daniel’s involved him driving a golf cart around in circles — Alvarez could only fume in jealousy that none of Jeremy’s plans had managed to include a golf cart — and stopping short when someone placed an exy racquet in its path, exposing him as sane after all. The camera followed Jill through a frat party as she tried to find Elena, who was masquerading as one of the Greek life brothers in order to hide from the general.

Max laughed at Elena’s fake beard, backwards cap, and baggy shorts. “That’s a good look for her.”

On the screen, Jill ripped the cap off, making Elena’s hair tumble around her shoulders. Elena looked exaggeratedly defeated.

The credits rolled, signaling the end of the half-time video, and the lights came back up on the court.

“And now,” the announcer roared over the loudspeaker, “introducing your second-half Myrmidons, led by their illustrious captain, Elena Calderon!”

The Myrmidons fans went nuts as a player in Elena’s jersey ran out onto the court, followed triumphantly by the rest of the team playing that half. It didn’t take much to notice that the six-foot black man wearing the number thirty-seven was definitely not Elena. Clearly Malik had stepped into his role of Patroclus.

The announcer called Malik by Elena’s name for the rest of the game. The referees looked stricken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was interested, the winner of the debate on who should play Dionysus was James McAvoy. Drop me a comment if you want the list of all 12 Olympians.


	8. The Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel Calderon earns his keep.

Daniel looked back at the team members behind him in the hallway and waved a hand in an attempt to quiet them.

“No one’s going to be able to hear us, dude,” CJ told him. “You can hear this party from outside the damned building.”

It was true. The Myrmidons had felt the bass thrumming at their chests before they had even come in the door. The Trojans had a standing permit from the university to rent out the dorm basement tonight and make as much noise as they wanted until 1 am, and they took that seriously. It also meant they didn’t expect anyone to come bother them about it. Daniel was counting on that.

“Shut up, you fool!” Kate stage-whispered, badly.

Jill giggled at Kate’s signature phrase, which bled into the wave of _shhh_ ’s emanating from the rest of the team.

Daniel looked at the girl next to him, the only person in the stuffed entryway who was not a Myrmidon. Mayim looked different to him somehow, maybe because for most of the five years he’d known her, she was wearing her camp t-shirt and hiking boots.

“You good to go?” Daniel asked her.

“I’m betraying my country for you here,” Mayim reminded him with a wicked grin. “You better shovel shit for a week.”

“She doesn’t mean real shit, does she?” Mairead whispered to Jill.

“No, she does,” Elena replied. “They have a farm at camp.”

“That’s so gross.”

Jill’s assessment was cut off by all the Myrmidons pressing to the wall out of sight as Mayim knocked on the door. Due to the volume of the music, it took a minute for someone to answer it. Luckily for the Myrmidons, they appeared to be a freshman.

“The door’s open,” the guy said. “You can just come in.”

“I’m an RA,” Mayim told him. She was. In a building across campus and off-duty, but she was. “There’ve been some complaints about the noise.”

The freshman blanched, and looked around nervously, suddenly very aware of the red Solo cup in his hand, not to mention its illegal contents.

“Who’s in charge of this party?” Mayim demanded.

“The, uh, the Trojans.”

“Ok, well, I’m going to need to talk to the captain.”

The freshman was sweating now. Daniel almost felt bad.

“Um, sure.” He still didn’t move.

“Can I come in?” Mayim pressed, not leaving room for a second answer. The poor Trojan stepped to the side and let her pass. He looked after her, and Daniel could see him worrying his lip between his teeth as he watched her progress.

The music shut off abruptly. There were sounds of protest from the exy players and cheerleaders already inside.

That was the only cue the Myrmidons needed. At Daniel’s signal, they rushed the door with a battle cry, stuffing themselves into the entryway before the stunned Trojan freshman could close them out. The Trojans inside turned in surprise, only to laugh good-naturedly at the unique and surprisingly effective “horse”. Mayim turned the music back on a second later. She high-fived Daniel on the way to the drinks table.

“Nice work, man!” Jeremy clapped Daniel on the back. His smile was luminous in the blacklights. He turned and wrapped his arms around Daniel’s sister.

“Amazing game,” Elena said into Jeremy’s shoulder. Daniel could barely hear her over the bass.

“Same to you guys, as always! Go dance, get drunk,” Jeremy suggested. “We all deserve it.” He looked at something over Daniel’s shoulder and back to Elena. “I gotta go captain a bit still. Come find me later?” He shot them another Jeremy Original smile.

Elena looped her arm around Daniel’s shoulder, a feat considering how much taller he was.

“Not bad for a last Trojans game, huh?” Daniel poked her in the ribs.

“Not bad at all, Sasquatch,” Elena agreed. “I’ll miss my helmet.”

“I’m sure we’ll let you wear it a few more times.”

“Oh, my god, I love this song.” Elena looked upwards at the speakers, then laughed and bounced off with Jill and Kate to hunt down some drinks. Daniel found himself a place on the wall with Patrick and took his cup, looking over the brim at the jumping, swaying, very drunk and soon-to-be-drunk crowd. The jungle juice was sweet like something he drank as a kid, and he took a small sip. He liked the noise even if the music kind of sucked and he didn’t mind the heat much. Plus, he had done his job well and Mayim had pulled through. And the fact that they only lost to the Trojans by four points was just icing on the cake.

“Hey! Get your ass on this dance floor!” It took Daniel a second to realize that Alvarez wasn’t talking to him.

“I’ll dance when he does,” Jean called back from beside Daniel, pointing at him with one finger while keeping the rest on his cup. He had clearly noticed how comfortable Daniel had made himself against the wall. There was a silent plea in his gaze, and Daniel obliged him by nodding at Alvarez. She rolled her eyes at the two of them and dove back into the sea of moving bodies.

“She’ll be back,” Jean said.

“So will my sister,” Daniel replied.

“Guess we’re both doomed.”

“I suppose there are worse fates.”

“Yes,” Jean said, because he knew. “There definitely are.”

The two backliners clicked their cups together.

“ _Á ta santé_.”

“Yeah, _le’chaim_ , dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those last two lines are toasts in French and Hebrew, respectively.
> 
> Well, that's it! The Myrmidons have entered their place in the world. Special thanks to Jill, Daniel, Kate, Claire, Mairead, Michael, Mayim, and my childhood softball coach. Some of them knew they were part of this story and some of them definitely did not. Also special thanks to Nora for the Trojans, the University of Auckland for not having any sports teams, Ramah in the Rockies for having a farm at camp, and to all of you who went on this wacky journey with this wacky team.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this instead of studying for my Greek mythology final. My priorities are clearly in order. 
> 
> There's definitely at least one Trojan I owe to exyfexyfoxes. And Nora, of course.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
